Getting Better
by EE's Skysong
Summary: In the midst of death, love, and life, Sam tries to sort out his feelings about all of them, and especially for one girl who seemingly hates him. RAHM Strange pairings
1. The End

Disclaimer: "There's having bad luck. And then there's being you."

(An: First off, this is a weird-pairing fic. There are a few canon, two slash, and a lot of hurt-comfort, so if that bursts your fanfic bubble, turn back now, mortal. There's also character death and angst. That said, it can get a little fluffy, and there are a couple of pairings that are just for fun. Oh, and it's really, really Rahm. Rahne/Sam, for the perpetually clueless. And we're imagining that Jubilee came back sometime earlier than Rahne.)

When Sam saw Rahne stroll into the mansion after two years away, he thought he was dreaming. God knew he'd imagined the scenario before- but every time he'd woken up.

But now it was real- he knew it was, because Rahne was tackling Jubilee, not him, and Bobby and Ray were there too, hovering around her.

Sam himself was watching, a little shocked, from the common room. Rahne hadn't seen him yet. All he would have to do was walk in there and he would be next to her again.

"All right, all right, get off me!" Rahne cried, giggling, as she shoved Jubilee away. "I missed you too, but this is ridiculous!" She stood up and brushed herself off. "Hey, Bobby," she said, smirking at the two of them.

"...BODY SNATCHERS!" Bobby yelled.

"The _hell_?" Ray demanded, rubbing his ears.

"That's the only explanation!"

Rahne put her hands on her hips. "Bobby Drake, have you really lost what brains you had? Did you have a funeral, Jubes?"

"He never had any," Jubilee replied.

"So then why are you dating him?" Ray returned.

"He's got a cute ass," she answered, cocking her head.

Bobby stared. "Body snatchers," he repeated, in a more normal tone.

Bobby's confusion was understandable; Rahne had changed a lot in the time she'd been away. She'd gotten taller, for one thing. While she still dressed pretty much the same, she'd traded in her sneakers for biker boots and her pigtails for letting her hair hang down to her shoulders. A pair of sunglasses was stuck in the reddish length.

"Any of you guys know where Rob is?"

Jubilee exchanged a glance with Bobby. "Why?" Bobby asked, after a moment.

"Because I want to say hello to him, daftie!" Her accent hadn't changed either; if anything, it had gotten thicker.

"I think he's out back," said Jubilee, with a warning glance at her boyfriend. She linked arms with Rahne and walked off.

Walking quietly for once in his life, Sam followed.

"I got a new roomate," said Jubilee. "She moved in about a year after you left. Her name's Dani. She's cool. I think you'll like her."

"Either that, or I'll have to bite her for stealing my room," Rahne agreed, and both girls laughed.

Sam knew why she wanted to see Rob- she'd had a crush on him for most of her time at the Institute. Rob was pretty much clueless to this- they'd flirted once or twice, but only Sam and Jubilee, Rahne's confidants, had known of her crush.

Sam swallowed as he remembered the close relationship they'd had. They'd been best friends. It wasn't until after she'd left and his world had crashed down around him that he'd realized just _how_ close it could've been. Could he maintain that, now?

His questions were pushed to the back of his mind as Rahne and Jubilee and their unknown observer ran into Rob and Dani.

"Rahne, Dani, Dani, Rahne," said Jubilee.

"Hi!" Dani chirped, grinning at Rahne.

Rahne cocked her head and studied her for a moment, then returned it. "Hi yourself," she said, sitting beside Rob. She elbowed Rob. "Miss me?"

Rob rolled his eyes. "No, not really," he said, and then he laughed. "Stupid question, stupid answer, wolfy."

There was a light in Rahne's eyes whenever she was around Roberto.

Now, as Rob knotted fingers with Dani and both turned and smiled at Rahne, Sam watched that light die. It made his heart hurt to see her like that.

Jubilee saw it too- it didn't cause her pain, it just made her uncomfortable. "I'm gonna go find Bobby," she said, after a moment of biting her lip. "He'll be looking for pods soon if I don't stop him."

Dani burst out laughing.

"Oh, crap," said Rob. "I'll have to go with you- me and him have punishment duty in ten minutes!"

The two got up and walked away.

"So..." said Rahne. She was looking at her feet.

Apparently, in the weird language girls spoke, this meant a lot more than it usually did. "We're dating. Have been for a while now."

"Uh-huh."

Dani looked at Rahne and frowned. "Look," she said after a moment, "I don't know what it was between you and him, but I want us to be friends, ok?"

Rahne sighed, and looked up at Dani. "Aye, me too... and there wasn't anything. I just wished there was."

Dani raised and lowered one shoulder, as if to say "What can you do?"

Rahne copied the shrug, and got up and walked off... right past where Sam was hiding. She paused, frowning, and then spun. "Samuel Guthrie," she said, "why were you _spying_ on me instead of coming out and talking to me like a normal person?"

Sam stepped out in front of her. He wanted to tell her why- tell her everything, for that matter- but he just... couldn't. He was always useless around girls, and it was only after Rahne had left that he'd realized she'd been one. _Great time to get tongue-tied, Guthrie_, he mentally yelled at himself. _She wants an explanation! Say something! Anything, dammit!_

But as hard as he tried, he couldn't say anything of meaning. All that came out was "I... um..."

She glared at him. "Not once," she accused, coming very close to him and glaring, "not once in two years did you call me, or send me a postcard, or _anything_ to say you acknowleged I was still alive. And now you spy on me- when you _knew_ what I thought of Rob!" Her eyes narrowed, and Sam realized she was close to tears. "You're not the person I thought you were."

She turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Sam standing there, still stammering and wondering exactly what he'd just done to upset her so much.

(Ok, yeah that fight probably sounded really bad, buuuut there is a deeper explanation for it. This chapter is kind of short, but the other ones should get longer- there's more I want to pack into them. Hopefully, anyway.)


	2. The Shattering

Disclaimer: "It's not the end of the world... it just feels like it."

(An: Here is the second chapter, with the piling on of angst and stuff. And some hints as to the weird pairings. Oh, by the way, we're pretending that the Acolytes and Wanda have joined the X-men... Also, as in many of my fics, flashbacks are in italics. Clear? Oh, btw, there's an AWFUL pun somewhere in this chapter. Sorry in advance. I couldn't resist.)

Sam thought he must be dreaming again when the professor talked about the accident.

It had been a very routine thing- Remy, Bobby, Logan, Ororo, and Wanda had gone to the store, since it was their week on the roster to get the food that thirty-odd people need. On the way, they had picked up Amanda, since she was coming to the mansion anyway, to meet up with Kurt.

From what witnesses had said, some guy had come careening out of an alley, smashing directly into the backseat of the jeep. The man was drunk, and he himself had suffered nothing more than a few scratches.

As for the institute's car, only Logan, Ororo, and Amanda survived. Amanda was apparently a fluke, and Logan had sheilded Ororo. Ororo and Amanda were mainly unhurt, and Logan's healing factor had taken care of him.

The doctors couldn't do anything about the mental wounds, though.

The professor had called them all into the room. Amanda, Ororo, and Logan were standing by his desk; Amanda had rushed into Kurt's arms, sobbing. Kurt had wrapped his arms around Amanda and looked over the top of her head to the professor, perplexed.

The professor had his eyes closed. In a quiet, somber voice, he said, "I have some terrible news, students. There was a car accident. Remy, Bobby, and Wanda... didn't survive."

There was silence in the room for a few seconds, except for Amanda's muffled tears.

After a moment, Rogue quietly got up and left the room.

That shattered it. Jubilee buried her face in her hands, sucked in a deep breath, and headed out herself. Tabitha took Amara's hand and walked out. Rob slid over by Dani and put his arms around her. All of them had been close to Bobby. Rahne looked around, looking lost. Her eyes settled on Sam for a moment, then they hardened. She left, apparently to find Jubilee. Kurt wrapped his arms tighter around Amanda and buried his face in her hair, shaking. Piotr was staring at his hands, looking lost. Jamie looked confused; his eyes were wide and he looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't. Ray looked like he wanted to kill something. John was just staring off into space, his green eyes unreadable. Scott and Jean exchanged glances and then quietly left, holding hands.

As for Sam, he had no idea what to think. It all had some bizarre, unreal quality- as though he were watching through someone else's eyes.

Kitty was the first one to speak. "I'll, um, I'll go call the Brotherhood," she said, in a choked voice.

After that, everyone just sort of shuffled out, all disconnected except for the couples in the room, consoling each other as best they could. The rest were left on their own to deal with their grief.

&&&

Tabitha dragged Amara to their room. They sat down on Tabitha's bed.

Amara looked at the blanket, murmuring, "I can't believe this really happened."

Tabitha took a deep breath. "Neither do I." She reached over and turned Amara's face to her. She leaned in to kiss her but Amara pulled back.

Amara stood up, looking disgusted and hurt. "How can you even _think_ about something like that now? In case you haven't noticed, one of our own is dead!"

"I-" Tabitha started, but Amara cut her off.

"No! I thought you'd be able to tell I was trying to deal with it!" Amara glared at her, turned on her heel, and walked out.

"But..." Tabitha whispered, a few tears hitting the floor, "so was I..."

&&&

Kurt and Amanda headed to Kurt's room, and curled up on the bed. Amanda buried her face in Kurt's chest, her shoulders shaking.

"Shh, _liebe,_" Kurt murmured, stroking her hair. "Please calm down."

Slowly, her sobs petered out, and she looked up. "I just keep thinking..." she whispered, "that if I'd sat where Remy was, or Wanda, I'd be gone too... and I... I feel guilty... I know it's... stupid... but I do."

Kurt rubbed her back. "There was nothing you could do, _schatz_," said Kurt. "Things like these happen sometimes. That's all."

"I know... but it doesn't change that," she replied, sniffling.

After a while, Amanda fell asleep. Kurt kissed her forehead and went off to find Rogue.

&&&

Kurt discovered her in the Danger Room. He went up into the control room to ask around, and saw her. She was down in the DR, running an old Acolyte sim.

Scott, Jean, and Piotr were already there, watching with grim looks. "She's been at it for a while," said Scott as Kurt joined them. "Ever since she left the professor's study, apparently."

"She's just been running that same sim, over and over again," Jean added.

Piotr said nothing; he was apparently more interested in watching his sim self get its ass kicked.

Kurt, however, wasn't paying any attention to him. His focus was on his sister.

The only Acolyte left was Remy. Rogue squared herself, and then with one colossal kick, knocked off his head and sent it flying. "Computer: repeat sim!" she shouted. Her voice cracked.

"She's going to hurt herself," Kurt cried, and made a move to bamf.

Piotr touched his shoulder. "Don't," he said. "She's trying to deal with her grief, and this is the only way she knows."

"But... but..."

Piotr shook his head, and Kurt sighed.

Rogue saw and heard nothing of them; she hadn't looked up at the control room once since she started the session. Her thoughts were faroff.

_When Remy had come to the mansion, she'd avoided him like the plague. She'd made friends with John, though, just to spite him- the two were best friends. _

_Somehow, however, he'd cornered her and talked her into doing a training session together. Rogue would've said no, but she'd checked the roster, and her only other option was Kitty, and that would probably be rather boring. She wanted a little bit of a challenge, at least._

_So she'd made the worst mistake of her life and accepted._

_It was just a sparring contest- knock the other person down and you won. _

_Remy, of course, was an artful dodger. Rogue threw punch after punch, and each missed, Remy talking all the while. "Look," dodge, "I want us to be friends," dodge, "I mean, I know I put you through a lot of _merde_ in the past," dodge, "and I'm sorry about that, really," jump, "but can't we just put the whole mess behind us?" He dodged again and threw a cursory punch of his own. "Wanda said she would kill me if I made you cry, anyway."_

_"Ok," said Rogue, stopping._

_"Wait, what?" It was clear that he hadn't expected this response._

_"I'll be friends with you... _if_ you'll stand still for a second."_

_Remy obliged, and then was left blinking as her fist connected with his nose. "Ow!"_

_"Ok, _now_ we're friends," said Rogue. She grinned at him, affecting one of Kitty's more annoying mannerisms, and walked out._

_Remy blinked, and the expression on his face made it obvious that he didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed._

The illusion of a rainy Bayville faded away as, again, she destroyed the last Acolyte. Rogue slumped down on her knees and started to cry. "You _bastard_," she whispered.

&&&

Kitty only went near the common room that day because she heard the banging.

She'd only heard it when she'd finished talking with the Brotherhood. She'd talked to Lance for about a half-hour. They had broken up months ago, and now they were strictly "just friends." The reason she'd dated him, Kitty thought, was because he understood her. Not well enough to base a relationship on, as she'd discovered, but well enough that he was the one she went to when she needed to talk something out.

She was using the phone in the common room, because it was near the professor's study, and she hadn't thought she'd be able to make it to her room without crying. Once she hung up, it took her a moment to compose herself. _I can have a good cry once I get up to my room. Just not here. Be strong for once in your life, for everyone else's sake._ She'd started for her room, and then she heard the noises.

She peered inside the kitchen. John was sitting inside. The flame-proof sunglasses he always had stuck in his carrot-red hair were on the table, and he was banging his head against the wall. Kitty blinked. _What's he doing?_

The banging paused as John glanced at her. "Oh, hello, Kitty," said John. His eyes were dull and he appeared to have a bruise on his forehead. He went back to banging.

"Are... are you all right?"

John just paused and looked at her.

This made Kitty realize what she'd just said. _Oh, yeah, smart question, Pryde. The guy just lost his best friend and his fiance in one fell swoop and you're asking if he's 'all right.' Real smooth. _She swallowed.

"You weren't that close to them, right?" said John, as though reading her mind.

Kitty shook her head, unable to speak.

"It's fine," said John. He tilted back his head and stared at the ceiling.

_Yeah, _that _went well,_ Kitty thought, as she walked off.

&&&

Outside the mansion, most people were unaware that anything that was catastrophic and life-shattering to someone else had occured.

Forge was in the "most people" category.

So that was why he rang the doorbell with a normal expression on his face, as opposed to Ororo, who opened the door. She had the look of someone who is desperately trying to pretend normalcy.

Forge, however, didn't notice this. He held up a small machine. "I fixed the... thing... what's the matter with you?"

Ororo sucked in a deep breath. "There was a car accident," she explained, in her best "serene" voice. "Three of our students are dead."

"Oh..." said Forge, choosing to look at the machine part instead of Ororo.

Ororo swept some stray hairs back from her face. "Come on, I'll take you to the professor's study."

"So... um... who died?" Forge asked, keeping pace with her.

"Remy, Wanda, and Bobby," Ororo replied. She looked as though she desperately wanted to cry, but wasn't going to let herself.

"Wow..." said Forge.

"Yeah," said Ororo. She pushed open the door to the study. It was empty. "He's probably arranging the funerals."

Forge nodded, and set the part on the desk. "Do... do you want to talk about it, or something?"

Ororo sat down, letting out her breath in a rush. "Yes."

"Ok," said Forge, sitting down next to her.

&&&

A few hours later, Ororo and Forge emerged. "Thanks... for that," said Ororo.

Forge's response was a one-armed shrug and "Not everyone can be an emotionless robot, you know."

Ororo laughed a little.

Forge leaned over and brushed the remains of her eyeshadow from her face.

"It's a little harder to think like this about a teenager," Ororo whispered.

"I'm older than I look."

Something more might've happened, but that was when Logan came by. He paused, not picking up on the pheremones. "'Ro. Where's the firecracker?"

"I-I don't know..." Ororo stammered. "I haven't seen her since this afternoon."

Logan cursed under his breath. "Neither has anyone else. I'm gonna go look for her."

"You... you do that."

As soon as Forge was positive Logan was out of earshot, he muttered, "He _really_ knows how to ruin a moment."

(Storgeyness is fun to write. Does leaving Jubilee in an undetermined state count as a cliffhanger?)


	3. The Funeral

Disclaimer: "And we arrived late To the wake Stole the urn while they looked away And drove to the beach 'Cause we knew you'd want it that way"

(An: In my experience, funerals are the most awkward things in the world. I'll try not to let that viewpoint show through, though. And mind the "Love Actually" reference in this chapter. I've been watching it a lot lately... There's also a 'Nutter ref. -coughcough-Thankyoufortheacroynm-coughcough-nospoilershere-coughcough-seemyDAjournal-coughcough-)

There were only two coffins at the funeral home. Rogue had spoken for Remy- he'd wanted to be cremated. Neither of them were open, which was a good thing, probably, Kurt thought.

There weren't that many people there. Bobby's parents were present. As Kurt understood, they'd had a falling out with Bobby. He could see the guilt on his father's face, and hear it in his mother's crying.

Erik and Pietro were talking quietly, each avoiding the other's eyes as they spoke of Wanda. Doubtless, they were feeling guilty too.

No family was present for Remy.

The aura of death and depression was cloying in the room. Kurt couldn't shake the feeling that Remy wouldn't have wanted his funeral to be like this- quiet, somber, sad. More than likely Kurt thought, smiling a little, he would've preferred a more cheerful place, with some oddball song playing in the background- "Bye Bye Baby" by the Bay City Rollers, perhaps?

No, he wouldn't have liked this- Kurt quiet, Piotr somber, and especially not Rogue sad.

Then Kurt got a completely mad idea. As he'd noticed, no one was paying much attention to the lonely urn on the table beside the coffins. Most people were paying as little attention to it as possible, really. And there was a similar vase holding some flowers beside the visitor's book. A little sleight of hand and- _What am I _thinking? Kurt asked himself. _Sure, this isn't Remy at all, but that's just nuts!_

Kurt looked around the room again. _But everyone knew Remy wanted to die in New Orleans... he missed that chance... but I could at least bring him down there..._

Kurt facepalmed, muttered something, and then looked around. No one was paying any attention to him. No one was looking at the coffins.

A few minutes later he was walking out, Remy's urn tucked under his arm, singing "Bye bye baby, baby goodbye..."

&&&

Rogue and Piotr had been sitting in adjacent seats for over a half-hour before either of them spoke. Rogue had her chin propped on her fists. She was staring off into space, lost in her own thoughts again. Then, out of the blue, she spoke. "I hate funerals."

Piotr glanced at her, then around to make sure she wasn't talking to someone else. "...Why?"

"Just look at this," said Rogue, gesturing around. "Nobody's talking, nobody's smiling, nobody's doing anything. It's so goddamn depressing!"

"That's the general mood at funerals," Piotr replied.

"Not in the South, it ain't," Rogue replied, sinking into her seat and crossing her arms. She still looked somewhat glad of the distraction, though. "At least at home, people talked!"

"I would not know," Piotr replied. "Remy never told us anything about his home, and I never went to a funeral in Russia."

Rogue replied with a one-armed shrug. "I've been to a lot. But I don't think I've ever felt as sorry for myself as I have at this one." She pressed her palms against her eyes, taking in a hitching breath.

Piotr paused a moment, then put an arm around her shoulders. "Please, don't cry."

"I'm not gonna let myself," she responded, taking slow, deep breaths. "Rem wouldn't have wanted me to."

Piotr bit his lip and tightened his grip on Rogue.

&&&

Sam sighed, running his hands through his hair. The funeral mood was really starting to get to him. Nobody wanted to talk. He seemed to be the only one who did. Bobby had been pretty much his best friend, as well as his roommate- he'd sat up awake all night, because it was damn near impossible for him to sleep without Bobby's snoring in the background.

It was funny, in a "life sucks" kind of way. The one time he actually wanted to talk to Ray or Rob and both of them were as silent as- Sam didn't let himself finish that particular adage. It held too much bearing on the moment.

He groaned (one of the only sounds that wasn't crying) and got up. He left the room, aiming to get some fresh air.

On the way, he passed the coatroom. The door was open a crack, and otherwise, he would've walked right past it. But because it was ajar, he could see Rahne crying inside.

Sam's heart had cracked when she'd snapped at him the day before. The crack deepened as he watched her cry and knew she'd hate him if he went in there.

Sam took in a deep breath and walked outside, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes for the first time since the professor's announcement.

&&&

Before the funeral had even started, someone else had been trying to deal with Bobby's death. Jubilation Lee sat on a rock in the middle of the forest. It was a lovely, flat rock, in the middle of what Kurt referred to as his "open-air chapel."

Jubilee had never been a religious girl, but lying on that sun-warmed rock in the clearing with tears streaming down her face was enough to make anyone reflective.

She sat up, wiped her eyes, and stretched back out on the rock, taking in a deep breath. It was late September- indian summer, in other words. The little clearing was bright and warm. So why did she feel so cold inside?

"I figured you'd come out here, kid," said a voice.

Jubilee didn't open her eyes or acknowledge Logan in any way.

This seemed to suit him fine. He sat down next to her. "Ever since Kurt found this place, I always thought it was a good spot for thinking."

Jubilee said nothing.

"How close were you two, kid?"

Jubilee took in another deep breath. She'd known this was coming. But she still didn't have anything to say.

"It's not good to keep quiet about it, kid," Logan said, after a moment of no response. "And I would know."

Jubilee sighed. "I don't want to keep quiet. I've always wanted to shout to the rooftops how I felt about Bobby. I just... never did..."

"So it's that way, huh."

Jubilee sat up and hugged her knees. "Yeah..." She rested her head on her knees and stared off into space a moment. "He- he was the reason I came back."

"And you never said anything about it."

"I always thought... that there would be some 'perfect moment' to tell him, when, like, the birds would be singing and he'd have kissed me and then I'd be able to say it... but there wasn't. And I never did." She buried her face and her shoulders shook.

Now it was Logan's turn to say nothing. Not that he'd ever said anything about it, but Jubilee was his favorite student. She had spunk, moreso than Kitty, and less angst than Rogue. And she wasn't the type to cry easy. You just don't talk when someone's like that.

After a while, Jubilee calmed. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, looking cross with herself for succumbing to tears in front of him. "We went out for almost a year," she murmured, "and not once did we say anything of what we felt. I don't think it ever struck Bobby as important... and I just was too shy... I've never been like that before, not around anyone... and now he's... gone."

"I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better, kid," said Logan, "but there isn't." He turned to leave.

Jubilee looked up. "Please," she whispered. "Don't go. I... I don't really wanna be alone right now."

Logan sat down.

&&&

Hours after the funeral had ended, Pietro was still standing at his sister's fresh grave. It was understandable, Lance thought, since he'd never gotten any real closure with his sister. Sure, she'd forgotten the rift between them, but he hadn't, and you could see the guilt he felt in the way he was standing.

"We're leaving now, 'Tro," said Lance, standing a good distance away.

"I know," Pietro replied, not taking his eyes off Wanda's headstone. "Go ahead."

"Sure you wanna stay here?" Lance asked, rocking back on his heels.

"Yeah..." Pietro traced the letters on the marker. "I... nobody'd get it."

"What?" Lance had never thought of himself and Pietro as particularly close, but he was in obvious pain, and no one else was willing to speak with him. Leaving him there alone would have been cruel.

"I know it sounds cliched," Pietro murmured, "but I literally feel as if half of me is missing now. Wanda and I... we never talked much... but there was always that bond... that twin thing." He glanced at Lance, who had a bit of a "huh?" expression. "I said you wouldn't get it."

"But you needed to say it," Lance replied.

"Why are you listening to me, anyway?" Pietro asked, now downright staring at Lance. "You hate me. You can't stand my guts, my womanizing, any of it."

"I don't hate you, 'Tro," Lance replied, fidgeting a little under the other boy's intense gaze. "But it does annoy me when people don't act like what they really are."

Pietro frowned and turned back to his sister's headstone, as if that was easier to look at than Lance. "How would you know what I really am?"

"Maybe I don't," Lance replied. After a moment, he said, "Sure you don't want a ride?"

Pietro shook his head and Lance left without a word.

(GOD, if there were any more angst in this story it could practically be a comic.)


	4. The Silence

Disclaimer: "It was his friend's guitar That he played When he plays No one speaks"

(An: Wanna know a secret? I honestly didn't intend this to be so angsty. This is a rare story. It's coming out better on the page than it did in my head. Yay me. Random babbling done. Story now. And Toddfan, I SO have dibs. Just for you, though, there's a Tenth Kingdom reference in here... -wink-)

A day out of Bayville and nearly to New Orleans, Kurt stopped at the first payphone he saw. _Best call home... don't want anyone thinking I bought it myself... _ He dug around in his pockets for change and dialed the institute's number.

"Hello?" Kitty answered.

Kurt grinned. "Kitty!"

"Kurt?" she asked.

"Who else?"

"Where _are_ you, anyway? I haven't seen you since the funerals yesterday."

"I'm on a bit of a personal mission."

"...What did you do?"

"Well... um..."

"Oh, man," said Kitty. "Remy's urn was missing at the ceremony. The one on the pedestal was fake. You didn't!"

"I did," Kurt admitted.

Kitty burst out laughing. "Oh _man_, Kurt," she gasped. "What is this, some kind of personal vendetta?"

"You could call it that," he replied, lounging against the side of the phonebooth. "Remy _was_ my best friend."

"So you stole his urn? Very smooth, Kurt."

"Well... you know... nobody showed up at the funeral for him. He and his family weren't really close."

"And Remy liked it that way."

"It still doesn't seem right."

"Oh, Kurt," Kitty sighed. "Just don't do anything too stupid while you're down there, ok? Remy's dad's a total jerk."

"I know, I know," Kurt replied. "Look, _Katzchen,_ I'm almost out of quarters-"

"So you're gonna have to hang up and get on with it," said Kitty. "Get back up here soon, huh?"

"'Course, Kitty-cat. See you soon." He hung up.

&&&

Kitty smiled as the phone as she replaced it on the charger. Talking with Kurt always cheered her up. The two _were_ best friends, after all.

Again, as she hung up, she heard the sound of steady thumping.

Inside the kitchen, John was muttering to himself and banging his head against the wall again. Kitty leaned in the doorway and inspected him. He actually was kind of cute, in an odd way- his orange hair was long enough to be shaggy, but too short to be pulled back. She'd never really thought about John much, now that she considered it. When the Acolytes had come to the mansion, he had been the only one who seemed happy with himself, firmly ensconsed as Wanda's fiance and Remy's best friend. The other Acolytes had been a lot less friendly and thus a lot more interesting to Kitty.

Now, as he sat there, deepening the bruise on his forehead and generally acting as crazy as Kitty'd ever seen him, he seemed a lot more appealing than he had then. Kitty caught herself. _What am I _thinking? _His fiancee is dead and I'm thinking like that? Get a grip!_

After a minute, she blurted, "Doesn't that _hurt_?"

"Not really, no," said John. "Only, I do it whenever I get writer's block and I get it a lot..."

"I meant the bruise."

"There's a bruise?" John reached up and felt his forehead. "Huh. So there is." He tilted his head and gave Kitty a scrutinizing look. "Why are you talking to me, anyway? We're not friends."

Kitty shrugged, taking the chair across from him.

"Yeah, well, it seems like every time I come down here, you're doing that," Kitty replied. "And besides, I don't really have anyone else to talk to. Everyone else I would has their own problems."

The scrunity deepened. "I know what you mean," he said after a moment. "Everyone I would talk to now is... well." He shrugged. John leaned his seat on its back legs, crossing his legs and putting his hands behind his head. He wanted to cry now. Kitty could see that in the overly blank expression on his face. "It's just... sometimes you catch yourself thinking they're still here, things like I should tell her about this... and then you realize you can't."

Kitty nodded. How would it be if she lost everyone she confided in in one fell swoop? The thought was unimaginable. She propped her chin on her fist. "You can talk to me," she said. "I'll listen."

John let the chair fall back into its proper way of standing, frowning. After a moment, he spoke. And Kitty listened.

&&&

Piotr found Rogue going through his closet. It had been his and Remy's closet, but now... well, it was his alone. She was digging through it, looking for something.

Since she'd been his best friend's love interest and then girlfriend for all his stay at the institute, Piotr and Rogue knew each other fairly while. Not as well, though, as Piotr would like. They were each other's closest link to Remy, and besides, she was fascinating.

She didn't do anything to acknowledge him, so Piotr just quietly sat down and watched her. As an artist, Piotr knew that the way someone stood or moved often expressed more of what they were thinking or feeling than what they were saying. And on no one was this more true than Rogue.

Watching her now, he saw several things in just her posture. She was desperate to find whatever she was looking for, but she was trying to hide it. She'd been holding back tears since that day in the Danger Room, and was desperate to let them out, but wasn't about to do that when there were other people who needed her help. All of her usual affectations had been pushed aside in favor of those.

Rogue suddenly stopped, leaning back on her heels and cradling a battered guitar case. "There you are," she murmured. She brushed some nonexistent dust off the gleaming leather and turned. A little gasp escaped her when she spotted Piotr. "I didn't hear you come in," she stammered.

Piotr just smiled.

Rogue stood up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She sat down on Remy's bed and opened the case. Inside was a beautiful acoustic guitar. "Remy's baby," she whispered, taking off a glove and gently brushing her hand across the strings. He could see the coda to that statement in her pained expression. She adjusted the guitar and started to tune it, her eyes closed.

"I didn't know you played," Piotr said after a moment.

"I haven't," said Rogue. "Not since I left the South. When I came up with Mystique, I left my guitar behind." She still had the skill in her fingers, though, Piotr thought, as she strummed the guitar. She frowned and fiddled with the strings a bit more, then played the chord again. Apparently satisfied, she began to play, a soft, short, sad song that Piotr didn't recognize.

After finishing, she rested her head on the smooth wood of the guitar, inhaling deeply. "Told myself I shouldn't trust him," she said quietly. "Warned myself a thousand times. I knew it would all end in pain. Always does, always will. But I never listen to me." She took several deep breaths, attempting to calm herself.

"There's no one else in here," said Piotr. "You don't have to be strong all the time."

"I should be," said Rogue, her voice laced with tears.

"But you can't," Piotr replied.

Rogue wiped at her leaking eyes, a fierce expression on her face. "It would make life a lot easier," she said, "if I just cut myself off from people. Maybe I should go back to Caldecott. You can make a pretty good living as a bitch-hermit there."

"If you don't trust," said Piotr, "then you won't get hurt... but you won't get loved, either."

Rogue frowned at him for a moment, then ducked her head back over the guitar again. She wasn't fast enough for Piotr to miss her blush, though.

She closed her eyes and started to play again. She seemed lost in her own world, so Piotr found his sketchbook and started to draw, just so he'd have an excuse to stare at her.

&&&

"Dammit, Amara, I'm _sorry,_" said Tabitha, chasing after her.

Amara just tossed her hair and slammed the door in her face.

"That's my room too, you know! I have a key!" But when Tabitha opened the door, Amara was gone. An oddly cold breeze was blowing through the open balcony doors. Tabitha sighed and went over and shut them. She sat down on her bed, pressing her hands to her temples. "Oh, Amara" she whispered, "how am I supposed to get through this without you?"

&&&

Pietro didn't show until the next day. He wasn't in the same clothes he'd been in then, but somehow this just made him look more disheveled. Lance scowled, both at Pietro's apparent one-night stand and at his own annoyance with it. It wasn't any of his business what he did with his spare time, but whenever Pietro pulled something like this, Lance always felt like throttling him.

More than usual, anyway.

Lance's scowl deepened as Pietro collapsed on the couch next to him. "Before you say anything," he murmured, his eyes closed, "I didn't do anything last night. Just walked around, feeling sorry for myself."

"Walked?"

Pietro opened one annoyed blue eye and nodded. "Yes, _walked_. I have never felt less like running in my life." He let his head fall back on the couch, closing the eye and grimacing. "I haven't felt less like doing anything in my life, for that matter."

Lance shifted uncomfortably. Most of him was protesting that he hated Pietro, but a part of him wanted to encourage Pietro to talk, because seeing him so depressed made Lance depressed himself.

"Why am I even talking to you?" Pietro asked, apparently of himself. "You probably want me to leave and stop raining on your parade." He groaned and pressed his palms against his face. "And there I go again, feeling sorry for myself." The next breath Pietro took was a little too deep, and his next word were a little too thick. "I think I'm gonna go jump off a bridge." He stood, and the scary thing was that Lance couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

"Sit down, you jackass," said Lance. "Don't be stupid."

"It's what I do," was Pietro's response.

"Do I have to go over there and grab you?"

Pietro glanced at him sharply, a weird expression on his face. After a moment, he perched on the arm of the couch, eyeing Lance with equal parts suspicion and longing. "Yesterday," he murmured, "you said I didn't know who I was. And that's true. The only one who ever did, I think, was Wanda. She never liked me, but she understood me. And no one else ever has."

"Mainly because of the way you treat people," said Lance. Pietro's expression was making his nervous. "You're a jerk."

Pietro snorted. It wasn't a cheerful sound. "It doesn't take much to understand a jerk, does it?"

Lance didn't answer. He wasn't stupid.

"Do you know why I'm always so rude to you?" Pietro asked. "Wanda did." Pietro was turning to face him. And that made Lance want nothing more than to run, fast and far. "Wanna know the one thing she knew that others didn't?"

"What?" said Lance, both curious and seriously getting the feeling that he wouldn't like the answer.

Pietro's face was only about an inch from his now. "I'm bi," he whispered.

_That explains a lot,_ Lance thought. That was all he had time to before Pietro closed the gap completely.

&&&

Sitting alone in his otherwise empty room made Sam feel even more alone than he had at the funeral. The room was far too quiet, and no book or CD could drown out the silence. Sam sighed and walked out, wishing that someone would _talk_ to him as opposed to shooting him sympathetic looks or avoiding his eyes altogether.

Sam stopped outside of Rahne's room. The door was wide open. He just stood there a moment. Rahne and Jubilee were both sitting on the latter's bed. Rahne had her arm around her roomate and was talking to her in a quiet voice. Jubilee was crying softly.

The crack in Sam's heart deepened a little as he walked off.

(For the record, I -heart- Lietro. It's just so dumb. Believe it or not, the next chapter is the last. Don't give me that look. Short stories are better.)


	5. The Beginning

Disclaimer: "There are no happy endings, because nothing ever ends."

(An: That's my excuse, anyway. I'm not trying to make this ending particularly spectacular, just satisfying and maybe a little memorable. Oh, by the way, I had a blonde moment. I had to tack on a little section before Sam's ending. Just some slashy stuff. Not important, just an explanation to that scene between Lance and Pietro at the grave. For the clueless, the blonde woman in this chapter is Mercy, Henri's wife. And I have nooo idea how Jean-Luc talks. I'm still dealing with the ponytail, here. There's a slight reference to Star-Of-Chaos in here, in that Amara collects John's books. And I spelled the pronunciation of his name as one of my classmates spells his.)

Kurt shifted from foot to foot as he knocked on the door of the mansion. It was intimidating, with its age and size and general unfriendliness, but this was lessened by the fact that it obviously wasn't as well-kept as it could've been.

A few minutes after his sixth knock, a tired-looking young man answered the door. He looked to be about Remy's age, only a year or two older. The man eyed him with a mixture of indifference, curiousity, and disdain. "What do you want?"

Kurt shifted his precious burden a bit. "Are you Henri?" The man nodded. "I'd really rather tell this to everyone in your family at once, if you don't mind."

Henri glanced at the urn in Kurt's grasp. "Oh, _merde,_" he whispered. "Not Remy."

Kurt nodded, fidgeting again.

"Follow me," said the man, obviously trying to accept this fact and attempting to remember where the rest of his clan was at the same time. He walked off at a brisk pace. Kurt had to hustle to keep up.

On the way, they encountered a blonde woman, who glanced from Henri to Kurt and raised an eyebrow. Henri said nothing, just gestured for the woman to follow. She frowned and went with them, looking concerned.

Henri took them into an office. There was a man sitting behind the desk, and Kurt assumed he was Jean-Luc. "Mr. LeBeau?" said Kurt quietly.

Jean-Luc paused in whatever it was he'd been doing and examined Kurt. After a moment, he said, "_Oui_?"

"I'm... not exactly sure how to tell you this..." Kurt mumbled. "There was a car accident a few days ago. Three people died. Remy... Remy was one of them."

The blonde woman gasped. Henri took her hand.

Jean-Luc froze. His eyes hardened. "And why was I not informed of this directly when it occured?"

Kurt set the urn on his desk and rubbed the back of his neck. "We- that is, the professor tried to contact you, but Remy... you know, he didn't really leave a phone number. Rogue knew where you lived, though."

The patriarch of the LeBeau clan nodded, frowning. "And this... Rogue. She's the one he kidnapped, correct?"

"Yes..." Kurt scraped his foot across the ground. "My sister was very close with Remy."

"And you," said Jean-Luc. "Why did you come here?"

Kurt shrugged. "It just didn't seem right, sir."

"Plenty of things in life aren't fair."

"It's not _right,_ sir. I mean, you probably wouldn't have known..." Kurt looked down at his feet. "And nobody at the funeral was there for Remy except Rogue."

"If he was so close to Rogue, why didn't she bring him here?"

"Because Remy was my friend... and Rogue isn't the type to do crazy things like steal someone's ashes," said Kurt, a little smile coming onto his face.

Jean-Luc steepled his fingers. He closed his eyes and just sat there for a moment, taking a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he seemed calmer, somehow, than he had before. "Thank you for this," he said. "That you would do something for my family- who, admittedly, haven't been the friendliest to you and your allies- means a great deal to me."

Kurt shrugged, looking even more uncomfortable. "I thought it would, sir."

Jean-Luc frowned a moment, then smiled at the uncertain boy. "Sit. Tell me of my son."

Kurt returned the smile, a touch nervously, and sat.

&&&

Amara was unsurprised and unpleased to see Tabitha standing outside her door. These feelings only increased when, as Amara moved to close it, Tabitha blocked her. Amara stepped back into the room, Tabitha matching her stride for stride.

"We need to talk," said Tabitha.

"You said enough," Amara replied.

Tabitha slammed her hands on the wall on either side of Amara. "No, I haven't," she replied.

Amara's eyes glowed a fiery orange.

"Fine, power up," said Tabitha. "I'm not going anywhere."

Amara met her intense gaze, her face firm.

"I'm sorry," said Tabitha.

"If that's all you've got-" Amara started, but Tabitha cut her off.

"No, it's not." Tabitha leaned in a little closer.

For the first time, Amara's expression wavered, her eyes flicking to the floor.

"_Amara._"

Unwillingly, her eyes came up even with Tabby's.

Tabitha took in a deep breath, and then she whispered, "I love you. I never said it before, and that was a mistake. Even if you still hate me for what I did, I had to say that. Just so you'd know."

Amara's brown eyes widened. "Tabitha..."

The normally fierce girl backed off, hugging herself and looking at the floor.

Amara took a step toward her. Her frown deepened a fraction. After a second, she said, her voice horribly formal, "I am sorry as well. I... I should have been more understanding."

Tabitha glanced up, and her gaze showed she was barely daring to hope.

Amara, usually the shyer one, wrapped her arms around Tabby's waist and settled her head on her shoulder. She tilted her face up and whispered in Tabitha's ear. "Just so you know... I love you as well."

&&&

When Kitty met John in the kitchen for the third time that week, it was finally on purpouse and not because she heard some strange noise. "Have you been sitting there all this time?" she demanded.

John glanced up. "What brought that up?"

"I'm only saying, if you're depressed, this is no way to deal," said Kitty.

A corner of John's mouth went up. "Believe it or not, I've come to terms with my grief," said John. "You helped. But I've been sitting here because, like I've said, I've got writer's block, and my editor doesn't count 'raging sadness' as a reason for me not to meet my deadline."

Kitty sat on the table. "Have you moved at all from here?"

"Yeah, for the funeral and soda and stuff..."

"Have you slept?"

John opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Not really, no."

"I didn't think so."

John cocked his head and examined her. "So what brought this sudden rash of concern on?"

Kitty shrugged, pointedly not meeting his eyes. "I... you know, I like you." John blinked and opened his mouth, but Kitty hurriedly cut him off. "What do you write?"

To her surprise, he ducked his head, looking at the table and tracing intricate patterns on its surface. "Gothic romances," he admitted.

Kitty's eyes widened. "Waitaminute..."

"Yes, Amara has a few of my books," said John, a blush rising in his cheeks.

Kitty covered her mouth, fighting a losing battle against giggling. When she had control of herself, she said, "I actually thought those were pretty good... but your real name is _St._ John?"

"That's pronounced 'Syngyn', thank you," he replied.

Kitty tilted back her head, looking at the ceiling. "So you write romances... and you've got writer's block."

"Yep, that's the way it stands."

Kitty swallowed and slid off the table, stepping over next to John, who gave her a quizzical look. "Maybe this will help..." And she brushed her lips against his.

&&&

Piotr sighed as he looked down at the little drawing in his hand. He'd redone it several times over since he'd started and only now was he satisfied with it.

He took a deep breath and walked out of his own room and up to Rogue's. Her door was open, so he walked inside. Rogue was laying on the bed, involved in some vampire novel. He sat down beside her. She looked up, an eyebrow raised.

Blushing a little, Piotr handed her the drawing.

Rogue looked down at it and her breath caught. On the front, the side she was looking at, there was an old sketch he'd done of her and Remy sitting on the couch. Remy was asleep, his head resting on her lap. Rogue touched the drawing, an unnamable expression on her face. After a moment, she flipped over the paper. Her eyes widened.

On the reverse was what Piotr had worked so hard on last night. It was small, and simple, but it was perfect. It was himself and Rogue, sitting together on one of the benches in the courtyard, his hand covering hers. She looked up at him.

"I can understand," he murmured, "if you aren't interested..."

Rogue smiled a little and wiped at her eyes. "Piotr..." She looked back at the other side of the paper.

"I can wait, if you want," Piotr went on, standing up. "I have waited, for a long while now."

She shook her head. "No, stay here."

Her face broke into a true smile as he sat back down, closer this time.

&&&

Sam was sitting in the common room, feeling worse than he had over the past three days combined. It was the atmosphere in the room that got him.

Jean and Scott were cuddling on the couch, Kitty and John were holding hands, Amara was sitting on Tabitha's lap, Rob was whispering in Dani's ear, Ororo was involved in her fourth hour-long conversation with Forge that day, Jubilee was talking in a low voice with Logan, and Rogue was resting her head on Piotr's shoulder, watching him draw.

Basically, there was enough love in the room to make his heart ache a thousand times worse than it already had been.

Sam rested his head on his arms, watching the happy couples around him. After a second, he couldn't take it. He stood up and walked out. No one seemed to notice.

Rahne was up in her room, he knew. So he marched up there before he could lose his nerve and rapped on the door.

The desire to run in the opposite direction doubled when she opened the door. She eyed him skeptically, but didn't just slam the door in his face as he'd feared she would.

"Rahne," said Sam. "I know you're still mad at me for not talking to you and I know you're probably just gonna hate me more for what I'm gonna do, but I have to do it, because all these few days have taught me is that tomorrow, or even later today, I might not have the chance to do this." He leaned forward, taking her face in his hands and kissing her.

Sam was completely taken aback when Rahne opened the door wider, putting her hand on his shoulder and deepening the kiss. When they broke off, she slipped both arms around his neck. "Do you know how long I've wanted that?" she asked.

"But..." said Sam. "You- you like Rob."

Rahne shook her head. "I did, a little," she replied. "But it was you I was trying to get, always you, Sam." She rested her forehead against his, brushing the blond hair out of his face. "I liked you from the moment I met you, but you never seemed to want to be more than friends, so I never did anything. And when I caught you staring at me the other day... I thought that maybe it would be better to be mad at you than to love you, because it had been so long."

"And everyone says I'm stupid," Sam replied.

Any retort Rahne would have made was cut off by his lips.

(And that's that. There is no sequel. This is all. You must be satisfied. And if you are (or even if you aren't and desire to yell at me), then why not drop me a review?)


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